


if the earth stops shaking, you're the only thing worth taking

by rainydayscribbles



Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Banter, Denial, F/M, Math and Science Metaphors, Pining, Pop Culture, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayscribbles/pseuds/rainydayscribbles
Summary: “Ah, David. You know your Achilles’ heel? Always assuming everything’s about you.”Devi crosses her arms. “Everything is about me. I’m the main character in my story. You know, the protagonist.”He smirks. “You’re the villain in mine. You know, the antagonist.”or:five times ben tries to find out what devi’s college essay is about, and the one time he does
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar, Mentions of Fabiola/Eve
Comments: 9
Kudos: 117





	if the earth stops shaking, you're the only thing worth taking

**Author's Note:**

> as you can see, it’s me, back aboard my using-song-lyrics-as-insanely-long-fic-titles train
> 
> note: 
> 
> 1) i didn’t remember the timeline of college app season, and i had no desire to return to the stress of googling college app submission deadlines, so i just thought back to my own experience and roughly estimated. oops
> 
> 2) this is the first 5+1 i’ve written and i can’t decide if i want to write more or not (i absolutely do, i just am SWAMPED with classwork). i started this fic over a month ago and wrote a lot of it then, but decided to come back to it a week or two ago with a new resolve to get it done and posted
> 
> 3)i don’t know where this fits in comparison to my normal writing style, as most days i wrote it when i was done with work for the day, and my brain was moving in slow motion, trying to exercise the small amount of creativity i have 
> 
> 4) lastly, thank you to leila, @montygreen on tumblr, for giving me the procedural background for the TLC/column chromatography lab! online labs suck, but making my fics scientifically accurate makes me happy
> 
> everything said, i worked very hard on this so i hope you guys enjoy! please leave me a comment if you like it because they make my day a lot brighter :)
> 
> title is from “pretty boy” by the nbhd because that song is playing on an endless loop in my mind. go listen to it, it’s absolutely beautiful

1.

Devi stares at her laptop, blue light illuminating her face, glasses perched on top of her nose, while she sips at her grande hot chocolate at the Starbucks closest to her house.

It’s the height of college application season, and the fact that her Google Doc, aptly “college essay bs”, keeps crashing, isn’t doing much to ease her frayed nerves. 

Frustrated when the screen goes blank yet another time, she groans and sinks her head lower, squinting her eyes at nothing in particular.

A second later, she feels a sharp _poke_ in her ribs.

She jumps a mile into the air, nearly spilling her hot drink onto her laptop, and adjusts it for far longer than necessary so she doesn’t have to look up. She’s positively sure of who’s standing in front of her by his revoltingly expensive Nikes. 

“Hi David,” Ben chirps, sitting down across from her with a matcha latte in his hand.

Her nerves are suddenly racing again, faster than before.

“Ben,” she acknowledges, still focusing on her cup warmer. “Couldn’t resist following me here from school?” 

“I’m not sure anyone could necessarily follow _you_ , Dale Earnhardt.” 

She finally looks up at him to pin him an icy glare. “I was literally driving the speed limit.” 

“Highly doubtful. Knowing you, I’m even willing to bet.” 

“Oh, please. You could stand to lose a couple thousand dollars.” 

“Doesn’t mean I want to. But I know what I saw.”

“Where’s your proof, Gross?” 

He smiles, leans back in his chair, rolling up his sleeves to expose his forearms casually. Devi fights to keep her gaze on his face.

“Simple physics. You were right in front of me and I was driving the speed limit”—

“10 under.” 

His jaw tightens. “You really think that low of me? I’m not an aging old grandma.” 

“Ok, 9 under,” she resolves. “And aging and old mean the same thing, smartass.”

“I was going five under, thank you. And they literally don’t.” 

She massages her temples. It's performative, sure, but still.  


He doesn't get the hint, and instead, keeps going. “So if we were both driving the speed limit, you wouldn’t be getting farther away from me, but you were. The theory of relative motion,” he says.

“What I’m gathering from this exchange is that you’re trying to justify yourself for following me to Starbucks.” 

“Ah, David. You know your Achilles’ heel? Always assuming everything’s about you.” 

Devi crosses her arms. “Everything _is_ about me. I’m the main character in my story. You know, the protagonist.” 

He smirks. “You’re the villain in mine. You know, the antagonist.”

“Naturally. So, you followed me to Starbucks from school. In search of what? My secret store of knowledge? The trick to my everlasting charm? A recipe for how to perpetually exude bad bitch energy?” 

“No, actually. I did have another question, though.” 

She stares at him.

He lifts an eyebrow.

Her eyes widen in fake guilt. “I’m not sharing with you my list of white men who I simp for. That’s between me and my Notes app only.” 

Her eyes widen in very real panic as she realizes she’s given him, no _handed_ him rather, an opportunity to dig at her. _Oh, please, I know I’m at the top of it, David_ , he could so easily say.

Ben doesn’t take it, surprisingly. Instead, he lets out a frustrated growl and drags his palm over his face. “Can you tell me what you wrote your college essay about?” 

Devi freezes as her brain buffers, thoughts momentarily moving in slow motion. “Um…..what?” 

He looks like he’d rather sink into the ground than continue this conversation. “I’ve just been struggling with like, ideas, for what to write about. And your writing is well, it’s decent. I mean, I did peer read your analysis of Macbeth last week.” 

She remembers sharing the Google Doc for her AP Lit assignment with him in class, meticulously checking over and over again that she wasn’t accidentally sending him the wrong one.

He takes a deep breath as he searches her face, slightly tentative. “Do you mind giving me any pointers? Or something? Maybe I can use them to make my writing better. Like a Watson and Crick with Rosalind Franklin situation.” 

Ben was asking her for _help_? The world really was falling apart. 

“Watson and Crick stole Rosalind Franklin’s research,” she finally manages, taking immense pleasure in watching him wince. “You want to steal my ideas for your essay? I mean, I know you’ve admired my endless breath of knowledge for years, but I just never thought you’d be so forward about it.”

“No, no. No, not steal,” he clarifies. “More like….build upon?” 

Devi examines him, not unlike how she’d studied plant cells through a microscope the other day in AP Bio. The low light of the coffee shop shines shadows on his face, and his blue eyes are remarkably genuine, shining curiously at her. 

She’s not quite sure what Ben and her _are_. There’s not a descriptor in the world that sufficiently matches their relationship, not right now, anyway. All she knows is that sitting here with him right now isn’t all so bad.

Well, that’s not the only thing. She also knows she needs to leave _now_ , before she even thinks of caving to his insane request. Curse his stupid twinkly eyes.

“Absolutely not,” she declares, closing her laptop with a _snap_ and placing it in her backpack. She grabs her nearly finished hot chocolate and stands up, heading for the door. 

“Wait, what? You’re just gonna go?” he calls out, voice awfully distinct in the quiet coffee shop.

She stops with her hand on the door, and turns around. “Actually Ben, I do have one thing that might help you.” 

He cocks his head, blue eyes brimming with barely veiled interest.

“The antagonist is also _always_ a main character.” 

With that, she flips her hair and leaves, door swinging and bell chiming.

2.

Dr. Ryan crosses one leg over the other and peers at Devi. “So, how’s this week treating you? What’s been bothering you recently?”

Devi tries not to groan in response. “I dunno. I mean, I’m pretty stressed about college apps and perfecting my essay.” 

“Well, what have you found takes your stress away?” 

Their therapy sessions had shifted to a more patient-centered approach, in which Devi more often than not tried to fix her own problems, with Dr. Ryan acting as a guide. Nalini informed her in no uncertain terms that she found it to be a waste of money, and sometimes, Devi couldn’t help but concede to her mother’s viewpoint.

“I guess…..hanging out with El and Fab?” 

“That’s good. Maybe finding opportunities to spend time with them can help you recenter. What else?”

“Oh! Eating those cheesy potato things from Taco Bell.” 

“I see." The older woman wrinkles her nose. "Well, on another note, thank you for sharing your essay with me. I know it must’ve been difficult for you to write.” 

Devi shrugs. “It was actually easier than I thought it’d be.” 

“Oh, really? How so?” 

“It felt natural, I guess. Like I was meant to write about it. And getting it out simplified things, kinda.” 

The woman beams at her. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” 

“Of course. So, you ready to leave Sherman Oaks yet?” 

“I dunno, it’s kinda weird. Like, senior year is _so_ random. There’s the kids who are bringing their kindergarten backpacks to school, while everyone else is basically dying of alcohol poisoning. Oh, and the other day, Jessica Oaken told everyone in the middle of history that she had a sugar daddy.” 

Dr. Ryan looks wary. “Well, I sure hope that’s not something you’re considering. And that this Jessica girl is 18.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not.” 

“However, senior year can come with a big opportunity for self-reflection, which might be what your peers are missing. You’re going to college and leaving all these people behind, these classmates and friends you’ve grown up with for years. It’s a big deal. If you’re feeling like you’re missing something, it can be good to address it.” 

For some reason, blue eyes pop up, and swirl in endless circles in Devi’s mind. 

She blinks herself out of her reverie and offers Dr. Ryan a tentative smile.

-

Devi walks into the school auditorium later that night, scanning the room for Fab as quickly as possible. 

She spots her, brown hair evident, sitting next to someone who’s back of the head looked way too familiar. She’s only stared at it every year in high school history.

No fucking way.

She smooths down her dress (dark blue and soft, a change from her usual red) and stomps towards the two of them.

“Hey Fab,” Devi says, greeting her friend. “Hey, Eve,” she says, glancing towards her best friend’s girlfriend.

The blonde girl nods at her while Fab smiles in response.

“Hey Devi,” Ben says, smirking.

She finally draws her attention to him, clenching her teeth. He’s wearing a polo tucked into khakis, the stripes on his polo matching her dress way better than she’d like to admit. He looks passably decent. Enough to make her feel a little light-headed. 

Maybe she just needed to sit down. Low blood sugar and all.

Devi sincerely hopes her eyes flash with anger as she answers him. “Get the fuck up.”

He smirks even wider, if possible. “No. I get the best view of the stage if I sit here.”

“I don’t care about your damn view. I wanna sit next to Fab. Get up.”

“Aw, David. It’s so cute that you think you can scare me.”

“You wet yourself every time I’m within ten feet of you, Gross. Don’t lie.”

“A baby bird is scarier than you, Devi.”

She huffs out a breath, worrying her ticket between her fingers. “Fab wants to sit next to me, not you.”

They both simultaneously glance over at the girl in question, who’s laughing into Eve’s shoulder at something. It was cute, Devi had to admit, but she wishes Fab would back her up on this. Then again, she probably was just tuning them out, too used to their banter to try to input her own two cents.

“Fab’s too busy talking to her girlfriend,” Ben says, gesturing to the seat next to him. “Just sit down before the show starts.”

Devi grumbles, but sinks down in the chair, crossing one leg over the other daintily. She pulls out her phone and engrosses herself in it, determined to avoid further conversation with Ben.

“Is that your college essay?” he says into her ear, not one minute later.

She jumps, nearly punching him in the face, but he manages to grab her wrist before she does, preventing her from doing so.

“Yes, it is, you idiot. Why are you always creeping up on me, Jesus Christ?”

“Oh, no,” he says, leaning closer to her in mock shock. “Do I hear you using the Lord’s name in vain, Devi?”

She pins him a dry look. “You’re Jewish.”

“And?”

“I’m Hindu.”

“And?”

Devi rolls her eyes and wrenches her hand out of his grasp, trying to act like she had minded the contact. 

She pauses in the middle of shooting him an extended glare when she realizes he’s trying to read the words on her phone screen, which is still illuminated.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she says, turning her phone off and leaning over to place it in her bag. “No.” 

“Why not? I just need the inspiration, I swear.”

“Early apps are due in a week, Ben. I know you’ve written your essay by now.” 

He slumps back in his chair and grumbles. “I mean, yeah, I have. But it would’ve been easier if you’d let me see yours.” 

“Well, it’s never happening, Gross, but nice try.” 

“Why not?” he says, suddenly looking directly at her. “What’s it about that’s so special?” 

His gaze is heavy, like slick honey, and Devi finds herself falling, sliding down the slope. 

“N—nothing,” she stammers out.

The lights dim then, and they turn to the stage, both a little flustered. 

Eleanor comes out with the first notes of the piano, and then Devi can’t take her eyes off of her. Watching her friend perform is almost unreal, because all the memories that tie them together, all the airy giggles and messy ice cream with pink napkins and face paintings, it all falls away, and Devi feels like she’s seeing her for the first time, as a person and a performer.

“Whoa,” Ben whispers in her ear, but this time she doesn’t even flinch. 

“I know,” she whispers back. “She’s amazing.” 

“I’m still better at singing, though.” 

Devi laughs softly as she turns to face him.“You really think you’re better at singing?” 

“Oh, I know so. El joined Acapella at the start of the school year. Her range needs a little bit of work, but she’s still one of our best singers.”

Unfortunately for Ben, only one thought is registering in Devi’s brain. Well, one other than the fact that he called her best friend _El_. “No, that’s—wait, she’s in Acapella?”

“Yeah.” His eyes widen in surprise and a little bit of guilt. “Didn’t she tell you?” 

Devi suddenly recalls Eleanor ducking off at the end of the day, heading towards the music room, which was at the very back of the school, near the pool. El disappearing during lunch, saying she had an extra musical practice, which Fab and Devi never doubted, just shooed her off encouragingly. The pieces fall into place, slowly but then quickly, all at once.

“No, oh my god! I thought she had a secret boyfriend or something. She was just worried to tell me about joining your lame ass club.” 

He chuckles, smiling despite the dig. “No way. Because of me?”

Devi beams back, breathing out a laugh. “Yeah, she probably still thinks I hate you and I’m gonna rip her head off at the mere mention of you.” 

They both giggle quietly to each other for a few seconds before Fab elbows Ben, effectively hushing them both. 

It’s only after they’ve turned back to the stage that Ben speaks again, his voice a low timbre in the darkness. 

“So you don’t still hate me?” 

Devi carefully tracks her eyes on the stage and keeps her voice as measured as possible when she responds. 

“I mean, I think you’re gross.” 

It’s not as deep as their normal jabs, she knows that, and he knows it too, if his hint of a smile in her peripheral is any indication.

Later, after Fab and Eve had disappeared (seemingly into thin air), Ben offers Devi a ride home. She accepts, if only because the opportunity to bring some antagonism back into their relationship is glittering within reach. Or maybe Dr. Ryan had gotten in her head. One or the other.

The funny thing is, when she’s in his car, the only thing she can think about to pick fun at gets her in the most trouble.

“Lil Wayne? Are you kidding me right now?” Devi grumbles from where she’s comfortably settled in his passenger seat. “God, it’s late at night, Ben. The insects are asleep. The moon is out. What about this atmosphere screams _let’s listen to hip hop_?” 

He shoots her an intrigued glance as he takes a right.“You can’t tell me that Can’t Be Broken isn’t a good late night drive song.” 

“I definitely can. That’s what I’m doing right now.” 

“The beat goes hard, admit it.”

“I hate boys,” she sighs, which earns her a gleeful chuckle from the one next to her. “Do you all know nothing about ambience? Setting the mood?”

“I’m gonna have to be honest, I’m not quite sure what mood you’re trying to set.” 

She’s glad the darkness of the night is hiding her steadily warming cheeks. “Well not a—not _this_ one for sure!”

Ben sets a look at her, light but deliberate _._ “Well, all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll get on my knees.” 

It’s so plainly flirtatious that she should roll her eyes, but she even can’t bring herself to when she turns her head towards him. The way he’s looking at her makes her think of a freshly picked orange, juice dripping down the side and perfectly bright, enticing, almost _tantalizing_. She can’t rip her gaze from his face, not even when his eyes leave hers to briefly skim down the length of her body. Frankly, no one’s ever looked at Devi this way, and she thinks she might want this, a lot more.

Wildly, she wonders why the light is taking so long.

On cue, the light shifts to green and they break eye contact, and it’s not until they pull up to her house that she can finally manage a response.

“Ugh, I’m not interested, Gross,” she begins, and because she’s the world’s biggest idiot, she keeps going. “And even if I was, no girl wants to fuck in the back of a car to hip hop music. Maybe like, some R&B. Or even Hozier, I dunno.” 

Ben’s face morphs into a smirk, which is strikingly similar to the Joker’s smile. “Duly noted, David. Too bad I can't take you to church. Because, you know, neither of us go. ” 

She doesn’t hesitate for a second before slamming the car door in his face.

3\. 

Ben starts sitting with them at lunch over the next few weeks, but today Devi wishes he were nowhere near her. Especially not across from her, looking at her with an odd sense of concern and understanding. 

Because it’s Ivy Day. 

She’s supposed to figure out the course of her life today, the college she goes to and will eventually graduate from, and she is shaking. She can’t stop shaking.

“Woah,” Fab says, swinging a leg over the bench to plop down next to Devi. “Someone’s on edge.” 

Devi glares at nothing in particular while El clicks her tongue at Fab disapprovingly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” El soothes, reaching across the table to brush her fingers over Devi’s trembling hands. “You’re gonna get into Princeton.”

“Easy for you to say,” Devi bites back, harsher than she intends to. “You didn't even apply to Princeton.” 

“And while I'm sure they're missing out on my musical talents,” El responds, sounding genuinely earnest, “you will know in about 5 hours. And all of this stress will be over then.”

Devi simmers behind a mask of indifference. El doesn’t get it. Neither does Fab. The only person here who gets it is Ben, because Princeton and Yale come out at the same time. However, she couldn’t care less about his stress level, or whatever, because she’s focused on herself right now. Speaking of which, why isn’t _he_ focused on her, too?

She huffs out a slightly unnecessary growl and digs her head into her arms, slumped over into the softness of her cardigan.

Fab and El exchange a glance while Ben shifts awkwardly in his seat. 

Then, a light tap on her knuckles, the touch itself calming her shaking nerves.

“Do you want some of my baklava?” Ben says. 

Devi bites her lip, sits up, and takes the whole thing from him. “You would be the one to bring a fancy ass Turkish dessert for lunch.” 

Maybe it’s the sweetness of the dessert, or the way Ben is looking at her right now, like he understands, but something inside Devi calms, like a bucket of water poured on a raging fire. Listening to Fab and El ramble about the merits of Schitt’s Creek is a little easier. 

Later that day, Devi gets home and wastes time till five pm in the most inefficient manner possible. She paces around her living room, then resolves to bake some cookies. However, she’s just mixed the cookie dough when she decides she needs a better distraction and tries to force herself to watch The Good Place, barely making it through half an episode. 

When the clock chimes, signaling the start of her near future, Devi is sitting on the couch, stress-eating spoonfuls of cookie dough and scrolling through TikTok.

She pulls out her laptop and types in a multitude of passwords with shaky fingers, logging into the Princeton portal as quickly as she can, and then it’s there. On the screen.

Balloons and confetti. 

She skims over the letter and then lets out a joyful gust of air, more than a chuckle but not quite a laugh, as a grin tears its way over her face.

She calls her mom, who screams loud enough for probably her whole clinic to hear, texts Fab and El, and does a happy dance, in that order. She’s still spinning in her kitchen when her phone starts ringing, and she can’t bring herself to do a double take at the name before she picks up.

“Ben,” she breathes, in lieu of greeting, still high off her good news.

He’s quiet for a few moments on the other end, but when his voice comes through, it’s scratchy and wet. 

“Hi, Devi,” he says softly. “I assume you got into Princeton.” 

She can’t help it, she breaks into a wide smile. “I did.” 

“Congrats. I’m really happy for you."

“Thanks, dude.” She pauses, unsure of what to say. “So, Yale? Gonna be a bulldog, right? You know, I always thought there was an uncanny resemblance between you and that dog. Both small, grumpy, always on the edge of”—

“Devi,” he cuts in, and her chest twists at the heaviness in his voice. “I didn’t get into Yale.” 

She can suddenly see in much clearer vision, and she sinks down into her kitchen barstool as she processes these words. 

“Shit, dude. I can’t—that really sucks. I’m sorry, Ben.” 

“It’s fine,” he mutters, and he oddly sounds distinctly more nervous for what he’s about to say. “I’m gonna—oh god—I got into Princeton.” 

She blinks in a desperate attempt to clear her thoughts, and suddenly there’s only one question on her mind. “Are you gonna go?” 

He breathes out, and she holds her breath until he responds. “I think so, yeah. Are you—is that okay with you?”

Was it? To be honest, she’d never really considered the possibility of Ben not getting into Yale. She’d always assumed, deep down, he was guaranteed to go there, the way she was guaranteed to go to Princeton. Ben not getting in was a specific source of error he hadn’t anticipated, throwing off her expected experimental results. 

She supposes Ben and her are a weird derivative of friends, now, if the word was stretched far enough to circumnavigate the world. Maybe having him at Princeton wouldn’t be terrible. 

God—who was she kidding? They weren’t a derivative of anything, instead, they were a lot more like an integral, the area under the parabolic curve rising higher and higher as they departed farther away from that word, off the chart, _ad infinitum_. 

She wishes she could admit it.

“I mean, no, not really,” she instead replies halfheartedly. “It’s just, you know, it’s—I got in first.” 

Ben huffs through the phone, obviously undeterred by her feeble protest. “There’s no firsts, David. We both got in at the same time.”

“But it’s my school.” 

“And now it’s mine too." Then, more tentatively: "You have to share, Devi.”

She tries to quell the rich cloud of anger suddenly swirling in her throat.

“Oh, and you might want to tell me what you said in your essay,” Ben trudges on. “Since we’re on equal footing now, it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Share? Equal footing? Memories of Princeton suddenly appear in front of her holographically—although they weren’t quite _memories_ , since they hadn’t occurred yet, she thinks—taking the same classes and working together on projects and actually reading the other’s essays and matcha lattes and ostentatiously printed polos and chocolate croissants and—

The cloud grows infinitely more volatile. _Blow, blow, blow,_ it urges.

“Go to hell, Ben,” she seethes into the phone. “I’m not sharing. And I’m _not_ telling.”

4.

Ben avoids her for a total of one week and three days, which irks her more than she’d like to admit. Lucky for her, she has an opportunity to remedy the situation in chemistry, which she decides to take.

In the spirit of senior year and no regrets and all the other stupidly unmotivating quotes they’d placed at the end of their yearbook.

So, she sighs internally—in relief, she assures herself, not trepidation—when Ms. Paloma puts up their names, shining next to each other in black, curling script on the whiteboard. Devi tries not to look at their placement for too long before she makes her way over to Ben.

“Hey, so, here we are,” she chirps, and immediately winces when her voice rings artificially between them. “TLC. Column chromatography. Chemistry shenanigans. You wanna do this?” 

Ben looks up at her from where he’s already filling out their pre-lab packet, eyes shining with something akin to unease. “I guess.” 

“I’ll get our analgesic mixture,” Devi says, and leaves to get their materials.

“ _Isolation of the Active Ingredient in an Analgesic Mixture_ ,” she reads over his shoulder when she returns. 

Ben sighs and then gets up to stand next to her. “Let’s just get started, yeah? The sooner we get this over with, the faster it’ll be done.” 

His statement is ridiculously self explanatory, but Devi tries to ignore the brush of his shoulder against hers, or the way his words stack like pebbles in the bottom of her gut. 

“How about you add the mobile phases to the silica, while I prep the reference plates? That way we both don’t have to interact as much,” Ben says.

“Fine,” she snaps. While she adds the first mobile phase to the silica, followed by the solvent, she tries to stay focused on her task. Adding the mobile phase, letting the column drip, adding the next mobile phase, getting a new test tube. There’s plenty of time to think, but she’d rather not. 

She sneaks a glance at Ben, who had finished preparing the reference plates for TLC and was now drawing the reference plates in his lab notebook. Devi is just letting herself breathe at how cooperatively they were working in tandem before Ben clears his throat.

“So, what’d you write about?” 

Devi watches the solvent drip into her test tube before she responds. “Don’t know why you’re still fixated on that.” 

“Just wondering what meaningful events you might have had in the depressing life you lead.” 

“More meaningful than you anyway. You came to _me_ for ideas, remember?” 

“Just give me a hint.” 

She tightens her jaw as the liquid reaches the 2 mL mark of the test tube. “Fine. It was about people, okay?” 

Ben snorts as he stands up to examine the meniscus. “People? Like important people?” 

“Yes, important people. People who matter to me. That’s what I wrote it about.” 

“Oh, please, David. As if you _have_ enough people in your life to wax poetic about.” 

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He sets a determined glare at her. “You scare off anyone who dares come close to you. And you want me to believe there’s someone in your life who you haven’t scared off? Yeah, ok.” 

She stares right back at him, holding the test tube tightly in her grasp. “That’s not true.” 

“Exhibit A: Paxton.” 

Devi feels hot gaseous fumes enter her brain, clouding her sight. _No_ , that was not what had happened with Paxton. That was different, and frankly, Ben had no grounds to bring that up. Her essay wasn’t about Paxton. It was about someone else a _lot_ more important to her. It was—

“You don’t have the right to talk about that,” she grits out.

“We all saw your very public breakup last year, Devi,” he drawls, almost hurtfully. 

“That was not a—it wasn’t his fault. Or mine. It was a misunderstanding.” 

He laughs, cruelly, and it sends a chill down her spine. “The entire school knows it was your fault, come on. All people ever do is run from you. You don’t have enough friends to write a paragraph about, nonetheless a whole essay. ” 

“Well, at least my essay was good enough to get me into the school I _actually_ wanted to go to!” she exclaims, smashing the test tube against the table. 

It takes Devi a second before she notices the whole class is staring at them, and two seconds before she feels a sharp, biting pain in her palm. When she looks at Ben, he’s glaring at her hand in anger-laced concern, not unlike how he looked at her when she refused to go to Malibu with her mom in sophomore year.

Mrs. Paloma barely gives them a precursory glance before she sighs and points out the door. “Nurse, then principal’s office.” 

They walk in silence down to the nurse’s office, and Devi tries not to notice how Ben is glancing worriedly at the blood dripping from her hand onto the ground, leaving a Hansel and Gretel esque trail. 

“God, chill the fuck out, Gross,” Devi finally says.

“It’s just—there’s so much blood,” Ben sputters. “Why are you bleeding so much?”

She rolls her eyes, but shifts to cradling her palm in the other hand, if only she doesn't bleed out and die. That'd be tragic for everyone who had the pleasure of knowing her.

The nurse sighs, not unlike how Mrs. Paloma had, when she sees them, and then ushers them both into the small office. 

“How did this happen, sweetheart?” she questions, while she aligns her tweezers over Devi’s palm to pull the remaining shards of glass out.

Devi shuts her eyes, the pain almost making her cry out, and when she opens them, Ben’s standing much closer to her, almost protectively hovering. It kind of reminds Devi of those couples in movies who are shown at the doctor together, awaiting the gender of their _fucking_ baby. 

The nurse clucks her tongue at the lack of response and pats Devi’s shoulder. “Ok, now off to Principal Grubbs.” 

The two fidget in the two chairs in the Principal’s office for a few minutes while the dark haired woman stares at them, rage evident in her eyes.

“Do you guys understand,” she begins finally, in a rubbery slick tone, “that graduation is in three months?” 

Devi assumes it’s a rhetorical question, so she busies herself examining the wood of the table. Cedar? Maybe oak.

Principal Grubbs huffs and then looks at each of them in turn. “So which one of you is gonna tell me what happened?”

“We were doing a chromatography lab,” Ben begins nervously. “We had to separate the drug from the analgesic mixture, so Devi was doing that while I was figuring out the TLC and which plates we could visualize with UV light, and which we could stain with potassium”—

“As much as I enjoyed organic chemistry, Mr. Gross, I do not need a rehashing of the subject.” 

Ben flushes and immediately quiets, while Devi sighs.

“We got in a fight,” she says.

“Groundbreakingly unexpected,” their principal responds. “About what?” 

“Our college essays.” 

Principal Grubbs knits her eyebrows together. “But results are already out.” 

“Yeah, we know,” Ben mutters. 

The woman’s eyes clear as she leans forward once again. “Wait, wait, wait. Ben, where are you going to college?” 

“Princeton.” 

“Devi?”

A pause. “The same.” 

“Oh, good lord,” the principal says, and mutters something under her breath which Devi thinks sounds distinctly like _praying for the dean_.

“I see what’s happening,” she continues. “You guys are getting antsy about spending the next four years with each other.” 

“They’re not going to be with each other,” Devi finds the need to clarify. “It’s a huge campus.”

“Yeah,” Ben interjects, in a more somber tone. “I’m barely gonna see her.” 

The principal leans back in her chair. “Well, _sure_ it’s a big campus. But again, so is our school, and you guys keep landing right back next to each other, causing trouble like a knockoff version of Bonnie and Clyde.” 

Ben coughs, tips of his ears tinted rose pink. “We’re not—I don’t think it’s professional or appropriate to compare two students to a historically famed couple.” 

Principal Grubbs pins him a dry look. “Right. Because the things you two have said in the past have been so _professional_ and _appropriate._ ” 

The pair uncomfortably shifts in their seats.

A few seconds pass before Principal Grubbs snaps her fingers. “Now, neither of you is telling me what the actual issue is, and frankly, I couldn’t care less. Get up, leave, apologize to each other, and to your teacher. Stay out of my office for the rest of the year, for the love of everything that is holy.” 

Ben and Devi rise to their feet while Principal Grubbs mutters: “I knew this wasn’t about the stupid chromatogram lab.” 

“Chromatography,” Ben and Devi correct in sync, and then shuffle out as fast as they can.

Once outside, they stand facing each other, both examining the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Devi finally says. “I shouldn’t have said that thing about you and Yale.” 

Ben shoves his hands in his pockets and peers at her nervously. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I was so rude to you about your essay.” 

“It’s chill, dude.” 

He nods and begins walking, and she falls in step beside him. “So, we gotta pay Grubbs another visit, right? Sometime before graduation. You know, just for giggles.” 

Ben smirks. “If we do, I have a feeling she’s gonna call Princeton and get us kicked out.” 

“She can’t do that.” 

“Maybe if it was Yale.” 

Devi stiffens. “I’m honestly really sorry about that, Ben.” 

“It’s okay.” He stops outside the door to their classroom and glances at her palm for a second too long. “I think I’m over it, anyway.” 

She can’t help herself; she reaches for his hand with her own bandaged one. “No, it’s not. What I said was so, so wrong. Princeton accepted you because you’re a great student. I know you have your reasons for going, but I shouldn’t have hinted otherwise. It was very out of line.

He’s looking at her like she’s standing under a spot light, framing her-and nothing else-in shining light waves. “I do have my reasons, David.” 

Devi, against her will, flushes.

5.

The Aquarium of the Pacific is thirty minutes away from Devi’s house by car, and forty five by bus. So, one Saturday morning, she puts on a pair of leggings coupled with an oversized Princeton Lacrosse t-shirt, and decides to try her luck with Nalini’s wrath.

“The aquarium?” her mom asks, in the middle of frying _dosas_ for breakfast. “Why?” 

“I just thought it’d be cool. To you know, think, and stuff.” 

Devi realizes she’s not coming off nearly as offhand as she thought she was when Nalini turns off the stove and eyes her suspiciously.

“Is anyone coming with you?” her mom asks.

“Nah, just me. A solo trip. Good for thinking and self reflection. And finding.....your balance!” 

Nalini raises her eyebrows for a few extended seconds. “Alright. I’ll let you go. If whatever is currently happening”-she points her finger at Devi and draws a few counterclockwise circles in the air-“will be fixed when you come back.” 

After breakfast, Devi drives to the aquarium, buys a ticket, and makes her way to the all-glass hallway, watching the fish swim in circles around each other. She makes it fifteen minutes before her newly created peace is broken.

“David?” 

She grits her teeth, not bothering with a response, but then she feels her wooden seat shift. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I came here to…ponder.” 

She tilts her head to the side to glare at him, but there’s barely any malice in it. “That’s not acceptable, because I came here to think.” 

Ben snorts. “You’re right, actually, because both of our thoughts can’t fit in the same room. We both have too many. I have marginally more than you, but we both have a lot.” 

“You definitely don’t have more than me.” 

“No, I amend my statement. You have more thoughts I’m sure, but I have more _meaningful_ ones.” 

“Couldn’t have guessed it with that shirt.” 

Ben looks genuinely offended. “Hey, they’re orca whales! I picked it out specifically for today.”

“Too bad aquariums don’t have orca whales.” 

“Seaworld does.” 

She fake gags. “Ew, fuck Seaworld.” 

“Touché.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes longer before Ben clears his throat. “You thinking of joining lacrosse?”

“What? I—oh,” she says, sneaking a glance at him. “Nah, it was just the cheapest thing on the online store that had free delivery.” 

Now he’s peering at her curiously. “You’re telling me you didn’t have a sweatshirt you bought in like, sixth grade, on a campus visit?” 

“Yeah I do, but you see, Gross, the _problem_ is that we live in SoCal, and it’s like, 80 degrees out, year round.” 

“I refuse to believe you didn’t account for that in sixth grade.” 

Devi blushes a little. “I might’ve been a little…..too excited to notice?” 

He lets out a laugh that warms her deep from the inside out, like a cup of hot tea on a cold, rainy day. 

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go look at the sharks.” 

They spend the majority of the day wandering through the aquarium, pointing out their favorite types of sharks, petting stingrays, and spending way too long in the aquarium gift store, in which Ben looks through the underwater snow globe section for what Devi feels like has to be hours.

It’s only in the middle of the food court, at the end of the day, that Devi finds the need to clarify something.

"This chicken nugget is supposed to be a Nursehound shark."

Ben's eyes nearly bulge out. "You've gotta be kidding. It's definitely a Smallspotted Catshark. Look at its fin."

She looks closely at the fin while he goes back to eating his food. Then, she sets her gaze at him, and lightly says: “I’ll let you read it someday, don’t worry.”

Devi hopes it is vague enough, but by the way he is staring at her, she assumes it isn't.

“Really?” he breathes after a few seconds, eyes heart wrenchingly open.

“Yeah. But only if you stop looking at me like your whole year is made.” 

“It kinda is. I finally get to learn about the triumphs and failures of Devi Vishwakumar through her own writing.” 

“You know, you could’ve waited twenty years and just learned about them through my autobiography.” 

“Oh, rest assured Devi, I’ll be the first one to buy it.” 

Now it’s her turn to feel a little breathless. “Wait, for real?” 

Ben pauses from stabbing a fork in one of his penguin-shaped fries to look at her. “Well, yeah, of course. If you write one, I want to buy it and highlight every single place you mention my name.” 

She breathes out a laugh. “You’re such a weirdo. I’m not mentioning anyone from high school in my autobiography.” 

“Obviously, cause that's pitiful. Except me, though.” 

He sounds so sure that she can’t help but feel endeared, just a little. She then realizes a line that she’d been compartmentalizing for a while: time was running out.

-

When she finally makes it back to her house in the late afternoon, her mom is lounging in an armchair, reading a book.

“Did you do your thinking?” Nalini asks, peering over her glasses owlishly. 

Devi sinks back against the door, mentally taxed. “Yeah, Mom. I did.” 

“Good. Glad you’re not quoting meditation retreat pamphlets at me anymore. A few more minutes and you'd have told me how to align my chakras.”

+1

Ben watches as Devi storms out of the hotel that their prom was held in, dress glittering in the low lights.

She looked pretty angry while she was yelling at Paxton in the corner. Compared to everyone else in the room, it could have been described as nothing short of fuming.

He wasn’t quite sure what was wrong. Fab, El, Devi, and Eve had let him tag along with them, and he hadn’t minded at all collectively third wheeling the couple. Or fourth wheeling the trio’s friendship.

They’d had a great time at dinner, and he’d mustered up the courage to tell Devi she looked beautiful, and enjoyed watching her blush prettily in response. 

Ben decides to bite the bullet as he walks out of the doors and searches for her, scanning the small walkway. It was raining, coming down hard, and there wasn’t much space to examine before he found her.

There she was, at the very end of the walkway, standing next to a pole. He makes his way towards her and the closer he gets, he notices the indent between her eyes. 

She’s wearing a gold dress that made her look a little too ethereal for his tastes. In the lights of the hotel, she was a vision, enticing and awe-inspiring. Now, she’s glaring at the rain, arms wrapped around herself, shivering. But to Ben, no less beautiful.

He clears his throat and slips off his jacket, tucking it around her shoulders.

At the contact, she turns to face him. “You don't need to do that.” 

“I wanted to.” He pauses. “Um, what was that in there?”

Devi looks visibly annoyed, but he maintains the eye contact, and then she heaves out a sigh. “It was Paxton.” 

“Clearly. What’d he say to you?”

She looks down, pulling his jacket closer around herself. “Just things….about missing me. Regretting our breakup. Wanting me back? I dunno.”

“Oh.” It jumps into the air between them, but instead of fizzing out, dissolving, it lodges itself there.

“Do you miss him?”  


Devi meets his eye and sets her chin. “Not in the way I thought I did.”

Ben tries to ignore the flutter inside his chest at her words. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Did—you have _completely_ moved on, right?” 

“Of course. I’m good, bro. Chill as an ice cream cone.”

He nods at the ground.

A few seconds, which seem to drag on for much longer, pass painstakingly. Ben darts his eyes around her figure, determined to not look directly at her. The rain pounds down on the top of the shed they’re standing under, the mist close enough for him to feel it lightly on his cheek.

Then, Devi heaves out a groan and pulls her phone, scrolling and clicking quickly before handing it to him.

“I can't believe you're making me do this, but here,” she says, albeit nervously. 

He looks down at the screen.

It’s a Google Doc, and at the top, in definitive serif, are the words _Losing my Biggest Inspiration and Finding Another One._

Internally, he nearly keels over. Outwardly, he just raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Title’s a little weak there, David.”

Devi looks like she wants to push him into quicksand. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“No, like, really, what is this? The name of a _Friends_ episode?” 

“Ok, that’s it,” she says, lunging her hand out to grab her phone. 

He’s too quick for her, grabbing her wrist and holding her phone away from her. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll read.” 

At her curt nod, Ben begins reading, not letting go of her wrist, but letting his grip soften. He can feel her pulse racing as she talks about her dad, the impact it had on her, and how it affected her emotions, mainly during sophomore year. 

The next phrase he reads slides into his throat like liquid gold, moving down and spreading warmth into his chest. 

_Although losing my father was ultimately the most unexpected and defining experience of my high school career, I’m especially proud of how I recovered from the initial trauma. However, the light that I had lost in my father, I started seeing in someone else. Someone unexpected, but not quite so._

Devi shifts on the balls of her feet, like she knows exactly which part he’s at, but he ignores her and keeps going. She goes on to mention Ben, even though she doesn’t explicitly state his name, he knows it’s him. She talks about how he helped her through her grief, how competing with him made her better, and how she came out of her trauma with his help. He can’t help but acknowledge the truth, then.

_Her essay is about him._

He looks up and she’s staring right back at him. The world feels narrowed to the two of them, living outside of space and time, maybe in that small corner of the universe where time is moving extremely slowly. Ben thinks it’s a little bit of a miracle that she hasn’t run yet, knowing her track record.

He hopes it means something. He hopes it means enough, because last time, it hadn’t.

“Devi?” 

“Ben.” 

“You wrote—this is about me.” 

She smirks, not looking ashamed in the slightest. “Good catch, genius.” 

“You wrote your college essay about me.” 

“Yeah.” 

He struggles to breathe as he tries to process. “I can’t believe—this is arguably the most important essay of your life! It’s your _magnum opus_! And you wrote it about me.”

Devi exhales quickly, evidently annoyed. “Oh, my god. It’s not entirely about you. It was mainly my dad. And let’s not forget it’s also about me, considering it’s _my_ freaking”—

Ben doesn’t wait to hear the rest before he pulls her towards him and lowers his mouth to hers, preening at her quiet sigh. Her lips are warm and soft and they taste like what he imagined her shimmery lip gloss would, subtly sweet. He brings one of his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she brings her arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss is refreshing, not unlike the mist surrounding them. It’s like emerging from the fog in a forest, where everything is clearer and the air is sharper, so sharp it pierces straight through the body. 

Ben pulls back first, but keeps her close to him. The rain makes the air around them chilly, but the closer he has her, the warmer he feels. He has a feeling that’s not just due to her almost unnatural amount of body heat.

Devi rests her forehead against his, and when she speaks, her voice is soft. “So. Any idea what it could mean?” 

“I mean, I think I have an inkling of one. It involves you being overly obsessed with me.” 

She giggles. “Well, unfortunately for you, I hate your very existence.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who waxed poetic for like, 500 words in your college essay about my _intelligence_ and my _determination_ and my _beautiful blue eyes_ ”—

Her eyes widen in indignation as she shoves his arm. “I didn’t say any of those things, asshole. God, I knew this would go straight to your head. I should’ve just written my essay about Eric.”

"And how his Raisinets changed the course of your life?" 

"Exactly! I could've argued that Vitamin C is crucial to long lasting happiness." 

He laughs, and suddenly she’s laughing too, giggling into each other’s faces. She’s the one to cut him off this time, kissing him with the same sort of determination he knows she applies to everything she cares about. He threads his hand through her hair and swallows her breathy gasp, relishing the feel of being so close to her, finally. This kiss is blissful, overwhelmingly so, and he feels himself sharpening, narrowing, as if he’s a piece of wood being whittled away to a point.

When she pulls away this time, her eyes are softer, as if she's seeing him in the mellow lighting of a sunrise, a brand new beginning of purples, pinks, and oranges.

-

Later, they pick up hot chocolates from McDonalds with what Ben insists contain an immaculate amount of artificial flavoring, but buys anyway. They're leaning against each other in the backseat of his car when Devi speaks up.

“So, kinda strange for the protagonist and antagonist to get together at the end, huh?” 

Ben pulls her closer to him. “No, not really. I mean, it’s only every bad romantic comedy on Hallmark.”

“For some reason, the only thing I can think of right now is Dracula.” 

“Oh my god. What about like, literally every movie that Katherine Heigl has been in?”

She sits up, meeting his gaze. “Hmmm, got it. So we’re a much more G rated version ofthe couple in The Ugly Truth?”

Ben looks at Devi, her smile soft but eyes alight. She’s somehow clearer in the shadows than in bright, shining lights. She’s muted, but bright, in a juxtaposition that he thinks suits her.

“I can’t believe you actually watched that movie,” he says. And then, softer: “But no. I like us as just us.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [here!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ravenclawbutcrabby) feel free to come talk to me about ben/devi :))


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